


The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

by Thorkyriebabes



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: But straight to lovers, Exes to Lovers, F/M, Multi, Peter Parker is a thot, like immediate “the minute we see each other again we fuck” energy, murder mysteries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorkyriebabes/pseuds/Thorkyriebabes
Summary: When MJ comes careening back into his life a year after their post-highschool breakup, it’s easy to fall back into love (and bed) with her. It’s significantly harder to figure out the pattern of the mysterious murders that start popping up in the following months.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 26
Kudos: 33
Collections: Peter Parker's Thotumn 2020





	1. Prompt 1: Dirty Talk (yes I know this title is unoriginal)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to everyone and I mean literally everyone who’s published a *******!mj fic! Ilyall

Peter doesn’t usually choose to walk home when he’s done patrolling at night. Most of the time, he’s swinging back as quickly as possible, to get in the shower and get in bed. But, somehow, tonight he’s ended up with a dislocated shoulder. It’s that Parker Luck™ showing up again. It’s not surprising that Peter’s own efforts to get his arm back in the socket didn't work, and were just more painful than anything. So, after he’s pulled a hoodie on (which is painful) and a pair of sweatpants from one of his stashes around the city, he’s lowered himself down to the ground, pulling out his phone with his good arm. He looks for walking directions to home, or the nearest clinic or hospital, while he walks in the general direction of his apartment building. While he walks, he takes off his mask, hiding it in the pocket of the hoodie and putting the hood up. 

Now, normally, when a girl approaches you out of nowhere at three in the morning in New York City, you walk the other way. But Peter, my friends, is an idiot sometimes. Instead of walking the other way, he lets her approach him, not paying much attention to who she is. When he finally looks up at the person who’s been very bold in walking next to him on his way home, he’s shocked to see his ex’s face. After breaking up with her before they’d gone off to their respective universities after high school, Peter hadn’t expected her to ever come back to New York. Sure, they still text. No, it’s not weird that they’re friends. It’s possible to be friends with your ex. But the chances of running into her at 3 in the morning, with an injured shoulder, when he hadn’t even known she was in town? Slim. Incredibly slim. 

“Sup, loser?” MJ asks him, and Peter, the dumbass, doesn’t even have words to respond with. Wow. She’s gotten even prettier with age. He gives her a blank stare, frozen in place, unblinking. MJ waves a hand in front of his face, tucking her hands further into her pockets. “Hey, I know you have a heater in your suit, but I don’t. It’s fucking freezing. Come on,” she urges him, gentle as she tugs his good arm toward his apartment building. All he can do is follow her, still shocked out of words. 

It’s only after MJ has unlocked the door to his apartment (using a bobby pin from her suitcase, because Peter didn’t hide a spare key anywhere) and led him inside, sat him down, and set his shoulder (OW!) that Peter can finally form the words, “Woah, Em, I didn’t know you were um, I didn’t know you were in town.” Peter laughs nervously, eyes drawn to her lips. She’s unzipping his hoodie, helping him out of it, and then her hands are all over him, over the suit. 

As she sits down next to him, re-memorizing how he looks so she can draw him (his body) later, Michelle explains, “I, um, I’m transferring to Empire State in the spring, and I wasn’t in town until an hour ago,” moving her braid over her shoulder as she gently traces the lines of his muscles through the suit. “Karen sent me a notification that you were hurt when I landed. I cancelled my hotel reservation,” she explains, and Peter nods, going quiet for a second. Yeah, safety protocols are a pleasant thing to have. Notifying the people he trusts that he’s hurt when they’re nearby is a good idea. In theory, it means they can come help him before he has to go to a hospital. 

“Em,” Peter sighs, after the second is up, “you know you’re always welcome. You don’t need to pay for a hotel,” he reminds her, taking the hand that keeps tracing his pecs and holding it in both of his hands. “I’m always happy to sacrifice a bed for you, MJ. But why didn’t you tell me you were transferring?”

“I-- I’m not sure,” MJ shrugs. “I wasn’t really sure I was actually going to transfer for spring, even if I got accepted. I mean, I really liked UCSD, but I just felt like the city wasn’t for me. And I wasn’t even really sure if I  _ would _ get in to ESU to begin with, so I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” she explains, squeezing his hands before letting them go, cupping his face with one so she can stroke her thumb along his cheekbone, tapping the spider on his suit so it goes slack with the other. She pulls it off to get a good look at his shoulder, and they’re comfortable in their silence for a moment.

“We’re perfectly capable of sharing a bed platonically,” she teases him, seeming to relax a little more once she’s reassured herself he doesn’t have any life-threatening injuries. But, well. With the way her hands are all over him, they both know that’s a lie. And MJ saying it flips a switch in Peter he didn’t know was there, making him suddenly confident enough to tell her “Em, you know that’s not true,” with a little sigh, his hand curling behind her head before he pulls her in, hesitating when his lips are an inch from hers and freezing up.

“You okay?” MJ asks him, closing the distance by pressing her forehead to his, looking into his eyes. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. But… it would be nice to let off a little steam. How about rinsing off, then taking a bath? Airports are gross, and you were just on patrol…” 

“You’re right” Peter agrees, standing up with her, wrapping his good arm around her waist. MJ seems more than happy to be led to the shower. Once he’s taken off his suit fully in the bathroom, he looks at her only to be rendered breathless. Holy fuck. MJ. Wearing black, lacy lingerie. Peter’s brain short circuits, and all he can do is stare at her. When the hell did she buy that? Or even put it on? She’s clearly only wearing it for herself, since she mentioned getting her own hotel room. And damn, does it do wonders for her

“Like what you see?” MJ asks him, clearly appreciative of the way he’s staring at her, before she turns around slowly and she slips off her bra, turning on the water to heat it up. A moment later, and they’re rinsing off together, while the bath runs nearby. Ah, the perks of having a nice bathroom and good water pressure. Peter can barely keep his hands off of her, they keep reaching out of their own accord to touch her.

“Peter,” MJ laughs at him, after the fourth time he touches her shoulder and then sheepishly pulls his hand away. Taking his hands, Michelle leads them to her breasts, showing him exactly how to tweak and pull at her nipples to make her weak at the knees. “Your mouth,” she says after a moment. “Peter, I want your mouth on me,” she orders, and Peter complies almost immediately, his mouth meeting the nape of her neck and… yes, he has to hold her up. “Oh, fuck, just like that,” MJ praises him, breathless. “Make your hands a little more useful,” she orders, and he moans against her neck, smoothing his hand down her left side until he’s rubbing his palm over her vulva, not providing any direct stimulation other than a surface for her to grind against. “Fuck, Peter, I need your fingers inside of me. I want you to fuck me with your fingers,” she instructs. 

Peter is a quick learner. Or, well, re-learner. “Just tell me how you want it, Em,” he nods, gently slipping one finger inside of her. Holy fuck. He really wants to be inside of her right now. 

“Well, I don’t want it slow and sweet, Parker, so cut the crap and hurry up,” MJ rolls her eyes, reaching one hand down to rub at her clit while he fucks her on one finger, then two. “Oh, fuck, Peter, yes,” MJ gasps when he curls them just right. “Oh my god, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to fuck you,” MJ tells him, as her mouth kisses along his jaw, trying her best to leave hickeys that last more than a few minutes. “I used to think about how this was going to go, me coming back here,” she confesses, continuing with, “and one thing I pictured was getting my wrists webbed to the fire escape, and being fucked from behind in front of anyone who got off their phone long enough to look up.”   
  


Peter groans, kissing her shoulder when her lips trail down to his neck. His fingers are bringing her close, but it’s not her who comes first. No, MJ keeps talking telling Peter about how, “and sometimes, I thought about how I’d press you down to the couch. How I’d wear a skirt home from the airport with no panties, so that the moment we got back here I could push you down to the couch and sit on your face, fucking myself on your tongue.” With the sensation of her clenching around his fingers as they thrust into her, combined with her words, it’s no surprise that Peter ends up cumming without anything actually touching his dick, thinking about it. Holy fuck. 

But MJ isn’t done yet, it seems, because after she comes, she pushes him against the tiled wall, shoving one of his thighs between her legs to grind down on while she washes her hair, his hair, and their bodies. By the time they’re clean, Peter is hard again, and MJ leads him to the bath, adding in unscented Epsom salts to help his shoulder before she helps him get in, straddling him in the tub. “I wanna ride you,” MJ confesses, in between kisses. Is having sex in the bathtub with her ex-boyfriend and current best friend from high school a good idea? Absolutely the fuck not. She’s totally gonna do it, as long as he wants to. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Peter nods, eager, resting his hands on her hips and pushing her down. MJ gets the message right away, reaching down to help him slide into her. She sinks down slowly and torturously, running her mouth as she does. “Wanna hear another fantasy?” MJ asks him, waiting for him to nod again before she continues, “Well, I’ve always had a thing for period sex,” she starts, waiting to see what his face does and smiling when he grins at the idea, his fingers tightening just enough to maybe leave bruises on her hips while he listens to her and allows her to get used to the feeling of being filled with his cock. 

“See, there’s something about seeing someone’s face covered in blood when they pull away after eating you out,” MJ elaborates, peppering  _ his _ face with kisses as she shifts a little, gasping when she finds the exact angle she’s looking for. “And then getting fucked afterwards, especially that first day when everything hurts. God. Orgasms are a hundred times better than motrin, Peter,” she informs him, starting to fuck herself on his cock. “And I think part of it is the blood, too,” she adds, after a moment. 

“So you have a blood kink,” Peter laughs, finding a point under her ear to leave a hickey that makes her toes curl. Holy fuck. MJ’s brain blanks for a minute as she gasps, trying to catch her breath all of a sudden. All she can do is nod, because yes. Yes, she has a thing for blood. “Just not when you’re hurt,” Michelle reminds him after a moment of regaining her breath. “Seeing you hurt makes me want to throw up, Peter.” 

“Noted,” Peter laughs, starting to bring his hips up to meet hers. Oh, holy fuck x2. MJ’s brain blanks again. Her words had been flowing out of her; now she’s pretty sure she’s about to orgasm, and all she can think about is how fucking amazing his mouth feels on her neck and how ethereal it feels when he slides into her. Soon enough, her legs are shaking, and her walls are fluttering around his dick. MJ falls forward, and Peter catches her, continuing to move his hips, but far more slowly, until he too cums. 

MJ lays with her head on his good shoulder in the tub for a little while longer, before she sighs, kissing him before getting out and wrapping a towel around herself. He moves to get out and follow her, but she shakes her head, going to pee so she doesn’t get a UTI as she tells him, “No, Peter, you need to soak your shoulder for a little while. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

Later, after ordering food from the 24 hour diner nearby and having it delivered to his apartment, and eating said food, they fall asleep in his bed, tangled together. MJ sleeps well, but is woken up by her hunger an hour later. It isn’t the kind satisfied by the leftovers in his fridge, or the amazing sex she could wake him up and have. Sighing, she gets out of bed without waking him and puts on a silky red slip and puts a change of clothes for afterward from his dresser into her purse, climbing out of his window as quiet as inhumanly possible. 

Peter should have known it was too good to be true when he wakes up and MJ’s not in the apartment. He convinces himself that she’s left again, or that he dreamed it all, for about fifteen minutes. Then, he actually gets up, and he sees her suitcase still there, open in his closet. When he comes out of his room after getting dressed and brushing his teeth, she’s unlocking the door to his apartment (using his key this time), and walking in with two drinks from the coffee shop a little ways down the block. She’s wearing his old midtown sweatshirt and a pair of his sweatpants. He’s pretty sure he’s fallen in love again. Or maybe he never fell out of love. 

“Here, Parker. I don’t know how you drink pure sugar without barfing, but I know you like these,” she shrugs, handing him a christmas cookie latte as she takes a sip of her chai tea. Yes, he definitely never fell out of love. Peter stands there, staring at her like she’s been sent from heaven for a good solid thirty seconds before he takes a sip of his coffee and grins at her. Michelle grins back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... hm... mj mysteriously popping up in his life again? Hm....


	2. Prompt 2: Don't be gentle

Peter’s on patrol later that week when he comes across a dead body. It’s not his first time seeing a dead body, but it still makes him want to throw up. See, the thing is, usually the dead bodies he comes across on patrol aren’t this… graphic. But this one… it’s only three blocks from his building. The man is hung from a fire escape with a rope around his neck, but it’s pretty clear he didn’t commit suicide. For one thing, the man is nude. For another, his uh— his dick is. Not attached between his legs. No, um. Someone— or something— ripped it off and stuffed it in the man’s mouth. His blood is drained, and “rapist” is written across his chest in blood. 

Karen gives him a moment to process it while she notifies the police, and then informs him that a string of these murders have happened across the US, with no noticeable pattern between the cities chosen at all. The victims who ended up like this all ended up being perpetrators of violent crimes who in some way or another had gotten away with it. When their bodies were found, their crimes were written on them in blood. Still… the way their bodies were displayed, it’s unique. It’s a signature. And there always seems to be a cover up, even in cities where police corruption rates are relatively low. Surely enough, when the medical examiner comes for this one, they load it into the van and don’t even ask Peter to stick around for questioning. 

Sure enough, a few hours later, when he has Karen check up on it, the report he made has been scrubbed, like it never existed, and there’s no mention of the body anywhere on any database. If it weren’t for Karen’s access to EDITH and EDITH’s ability to find what no one wants anyone to find out, no one would have ever made the connection between any of these murders, because most of them don’t even show up as murders if they show up at all. Weird. 

When Peter gets back to his apartment after patrolling, MJ is rough in how she pushes him down to the couch, using a strength he didn’t know she had. Not that he’s complaining, even when her fingers dig into his arms hard enough to leave bruises. Being around her is intoxicating, and he’s happy to allow her to hold him by the neck as she strips his suit off of him. Well, that is, until she decides to start teasing him, ghosting her hips over his but only barely letting them come together. Fuck that. Peter flips them, hiking her leg up as he thrusts into her, and grins when MJ gasps, her eyes fluttering shut. 

Pinning MJ’s wrists above her head with one hand, Peter grips her thigh with his other hand, leaving bruises on her skin as he thrusts into her. She grins at him leaning her head up and kissing him, breathing out a “fuck yes, Peter. Harder.” And, well, she doesn’t need to tell him twice. Peter speeds up and increases the force with which he thrusts into her, using far more than he’s used before in sex. He’d be worried he’s hurting her, but she’s got this blissed out look on her face and she’s making these little whimpering noises that let him know that this is what she wants. What she needs. MJ gasps when she comes, her mouth falling open as her eyelids flutter shut. A minute later, Peter follows her over the edge. When he pulls out and lets her wrists go, MJ rubs them for a moment before she pushes him off of her, heading to the bathroom. 

  
Peter sits there for a moment, contemplating whether or not this whole “fucking his ex and letting her stay with him” thing is really a good idea, before he gets up too, following her into the bathroom and turning on the shower. “Come on,” he nods his head towards it, inviting her to join him. Look, patrolling always leaves him grimy, and he isn’t eager to fall into bed with her smelling like he does right now. 

MJ does join him after she’s done, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing him up against the tiled wall. Peter’s more than happy to let her, at least, until he realizes the water is still running and he doesn’t want an astronomical water bill. Panting, he pulls away just enough to look into her eyes and ask “can we clean off first? Sorry, it’s just the water bill…” 

“Of course,” MJ laughs as she for his soap, and he gets the treat of letting her hands explore his body while she lathers him up, and then he gets the treat of getting to do the same for her, exploring her familiar curves with his calloused hands. MJ tugs a little on his hair when she washes it, and he’s pretty sure he never wants to shower alone ever again. This is great. And, look. He’s nineteen, he’s a superhero, and he’s pretty sure he’s gonna pass out with the way she’s pressed up against him while she washes his hair. He knows MJ knows what she’s doing, driving him crazy. 

His suspicion is confirmed when MJ hands him her shampoo, and the moment his hands are in her hair, she’s got her hand wrapped around his dick, tugging and twisting her wrist at just the right pace to get Peter to last approximately thirty seconds— short enough that MJ hasn’t even finished rinsing the shampoo out of her hair by the time he comes in her hand, gasping out a “fuck, Em” that earns him a peck on the lips. While MJ conditions her hair, he washes his face, then takes her face in his hands, using feather-light touches to wash it. 

By the time they’re both clean, dry, and dressed, it’s late enough for Peter to put in an order for a few pizzas for dinner, sitting back down with her on the couch after he puts his suit in the wash. After a few moments, she’s kissing him again, pressing him into the couch. It’s clear something’s on her mind when she asks him, “Peter, how do you feel about spanking? I know it’s a bit on the kinkier side.”

Peter has to think about it for a minute, which is hard when he’s still trying to process how he didn’t accidentally break her wrists just now. “I like it. Both giving and receiving,” he shrugs, leaning up to press his lips to hers. “But before we actually… do anything again, can we have a conversation about our relationship, MJ?”

MJ sighs, biting her lip, but nodding. “Look, Peter. I want to stay with you. I don’t really feel like finding my own apartment, and I was too late to get a place on campus. Where you are… that’s home for me. You’re my best friend.”

“That’s—” Peter grins at her, kissing her softly. “Good. You’re my best friend too. But, um, I would really, really like to raise kids one day. And get married to someone. And I don’t want this to just be a fling, MJ. If we’re going to— to move in together and keep uh, having sex and stuff, that’s going to be the end goal for me. I’d want that with you. I don’t think I’d be able to go through another breakup. So, eventually, after we graduate… I’d want all of that with you. I’m not trying to scare you off or anything, MJ, but if those things aren’t ever going to be on the table for you…” he sighs, running his hand through his hair. The words might sound gentle, but in reality, they’re painful as hell. For both of them. 

MJ goes quiet, pulls away from him, and curls into a ball on the couch, her chin on her knees. Fuck. If he’d asked her a year ago if all of that was something she saw in her future? Yes. MJ would have said yes to all of that, to building a family and a life with her best friend, to giving her children a stable, happy home with a father that’s smart as hell and would treat them like they’re the best thing to ever happen to him. Now? Now all MJ can think about is how, if she had all of that, she’d end up outliving her husband and her children. MJ isn’t proud of it, but she starts crying. 

Fuck. MJ is crying. Peter sighs, wrapping his arms around her even as his heart feels like it’s shattering into a thousand pieces. Is that too much to ask? Does MJ think that he's not enough, that he would be such a bad partner and coparent? Her answer is no, clearly she doesn’t share those desires with him. Yet, he can’t make it be a dealbreaker for him like he thought it would be. He can’t give her up, not when he’s just gotten her back. He combs his fingers through her hair, letting her sob into his skin. 

Michelle can’t make herself pull away from him, or make herself leave. She wants to, but she can’t. She cries on him for a good solid thirty minutes before she manages to shake her head, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry Peter, I don’t think…” she sighs. “I don’t think kids are in the cards for me anymore.” 

“As in, physically?” Peter asks her, hopeful that he can just suggest adoption and they can still be happy. But MJ shakes her head. 

“No, Peter. I don’t want— I don’t want kids anymore,” she lies to him, tracing a finger over his nose. Yes, she wants children. She’s known that she wanted kids ever since their senior year of high school, when she’d volunteered at an after school childcare program at the middle school near her parents’ apartment. She’d quickly discovered that while pre-teens are little shits, that at some point, when she’s way older, she’d want to have one of her own. She’s pretty sure that point was when Gia, a doctor’s kid in seventh grade, had made her a friendship bracelet and asked her to teach her how to draw one afternoon after school. They’d been inseparable that entire year, and even after MJ had headed off to college, she’d kept in touch with Gia’s mom. Until the attack, that is. Now, it just breaks her heart to think that she would have to see her pass away. And, ever worse, that, if she were to have kids of her own, they’d likely share her… condition. "I'm so sorry. I just… I don’t want to bring them into such an awful world.”

Peter can hear her lie in how her heartbeat changes, can see it in how she doesn’t meet his eyes, can feel it in the slight tremor in her finger. “Em,” he sighs, gently taking her hands. “It’s okay to be afraid, Michelle. I’m afraid too. My kids would be at risk every day just for being mine, even if we adopted. And I know it would be hard, marrying someone like me.”

“I know, Peter, but that’s not why,” she sighs. “I can’t explain it, and even if I could, you wouldn’t get it. It’s not something you’re going to change my mind about.” 

Peter sighs, biting his tongue and nodding. “Okay, Em. I just want you to be happy. If kids wouldn’t make you happy, then we don’t need to raise kids,” he promises her. 

MJ bites her lip. She’ll still outlive him. She’s surprised he hasn’t died already, being Spider-Man. But she still nods. “Alright,” she agrees, kissing him. Peter leans into it, and they fall back together, hands roaming each other’s bodies again, completely forgetting that one of them is going to need to be able to answer the door in a few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: it has been pointed out to me that in many universes, Peter is too scared of what his being a superhero would do to his kids to actually want them, even if he sometimes does have them. However. This is my au, and in my au, peter wants children, because he's been Morgan Stark's big brother-figure for long enough to realize that he wants a kid or a few kids for himself. 
> 
> also: hm... dead bodies... weird. spooky.


	3. Web-play/toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh... strap ons, wrists tied up, face sitting. idk it's short and not so sweet.

Two weeks later. MJ is sitting on Peter’s bed, wearing a strap-on. They’d gotten it as a gift to themselves a week ago, and MJ’s finally had a moment of free time to put it on and get the bed ready. See, along with the strap, Peter had also given MJ a pair of special web shooters. And oh boy, is MJ going to enjoy this. First of all, webbing Peter to the bed is hot as hell. The way his hips buck up fruitlessly when she just barely brushes the tip of his dick with her fingers? Breathtaking. The way he never fails to moan her name when she grips him and gives him a little rug? Showstopping. And the way he whines when she slips a lubed finger inside of him, gently looking for his prostate. Until she finds it, that is. 

The noise he makes when her finger brushes his prostate is phenomenal. Holy shit. MJ moans, leaning down to kiss him as she gently strokes it. The way his hips buck up, his dick leaking with pre-cum, is all she needs to know she’s doing a good job. Slipping another finger inside isn’t too hard. Then a third. MJ watches as Peter strains at the webs holding his wrists and ankles, desperate to touch her, and grins. “Oh, baby,” Michelle coos, when his hips buck up. “We’re not there yet, honey. This is just round one. Color?”

“Green,” Peter confirms, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. “God, Em, I- I really want you. To fuck me. Please.”

“Not yet, baby,” MJ chuckles, curling her fingers against his prostate and getting him to rut up into the air, his eyes falling shut. Soon after, she pulls her fingers out and puts a plug in his ass, wiping her hand off on a towel and using hand sanitizer before she leans over him, kissing him gently. Peter goes to wrap his arms around her like he always does when she kisses him, only to find that yep, his webs are still holding. Damn. But he doesn’t have too long to think about that, because then MJ is settling herself down over his mouth, and all he can think about is how much he loves eating her out. Because yes, there is a prompt for face sitting, but Peter’s goal is to eat her out at least once a day in this universe, so it’s not like this won’t happen again. 

Peter swirls his tongue around her clit, moaning. “Fuck, Em,” he says, muffled. Ha. That’s a pun. Get it? Muff? Anyways. MJ grinds down against his tongue, and he quickly catches on, flattening it out into a broad shape for her to grind against. Michelle brings herself over the edge on his tongue in under two minutes, and then she’s moving to kiss him, grinding against his straining cock.

Soon, she’s dissolving the webs holding his ankles down so she can get a good angle, then she’s taking out the plug and pushing into him with the strap-on. Letting out a broken moan, Peter gasps for air as she brushes his prostate, trying to figure out why he’s suddenly so out of breath. It probably has something to do with how MJ’s pulling his hair, or maybe with how her hips are angled just right, or with how one of MJ’s hands is wrapped around his cock, jerking him off as she thrusts into him. It’s probably something to do with his hypersensitivity, but Peter never lasts long, and tonight is no exception. Soon enough, he’s cum all over his stomach and hers, and Michelle is cleaning them up and freeing him from the webs. 

He’s so in love with her. A month with her after over a year without, and she’s already got him wrapped around her pinky. He follows her into the bathroom to take a shower with her like an imprinted duckling or something, wrapping his arms around her the moment they’re standing under the hot water, pressing his face to her shoulder. 

After they’re clean, Michelle lays down with him, letting him rest his head on her chest to fall asleep. And when he is convinced she’s asleep, Peter gets up and puts on his suit, leaving her on her own. Annoyed, MJ gets out of bed and changes into a pair of black leggings and a black body hugging turtleneck. After she pulls her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, puts on a small mask, and pulls her boots on, she’s slipping out the window again. 

A woman perches on the roof of the apartment building, surveying the streets and alleyways nearby. It takes a little while for her to find her prey for the night, but when she does, she’s sinking her fangs into them in an alleyway nearby in seconds, her eyes open so she can watch the life fade out of her victim’s eyes, as they eventually stop struggling against it. But, unfortunately for her, Peter by that point had been on his way home. 

Spider-Man swings into the alley, using a web to yank the woman- vampire? off of the man, webbing her to the wall so he can focus on assessing the victim’s state. After judging that they only need some food and water, he hands them some cash for the bodega nearby, then turns to the woman he’d webbed up. “You don’t know me, you won’t remember this fight, and you’re so, so tired,” the woman murmurs, as she makes eye contact with him.

Peter wakes up in bed in the morning feeling tired, cranky, and confused. What the hell happened? He groans, forcing himself to shower and get ready for class. MJ’s already gone- she left a note on the bathroom mirror telling him she’d be in class until later that night.


	4. Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh I Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peep the actually putting thirty seconds of effort into the title this time lmao
> 
> also, if you see ***. in front of and after a paragraph, that represents a food/allusions to eating issues trigger warning. if that triggers you, skip the stuff in between the asterisks, nothing too important happens besides some hints at mj's inhuman physiology.

Midterm season rolls around about three months into their rekindled relationship, and with it comes a side of MJ Peter’s never, ever seen. She goes from his loving, sarcastic, hilarious bookworm to a… well, the only good word for it is a total bitch. He knows it’s the stress of having to write five ten to fifteen page papers and sit two exams within a span of eight days, and he can relate. He has his own exams, and they’re gonna SUCK. Well, okay. She’s not a total bitch towards  _ him _ . But he does have to pull her away on the Friday before midterms week from a confrontation with a girl in her study group over the meaning of what some passage means in their book, and remind her that not everyone is going to have her interpretations. 

He comes home from patrol at three in the morning on the Saturday before midterms week officially starts after only being out for thirty minutes because he’d been finishing his DiffE study guide til two thirty in the engineering building’s quiet private study rooms. Peter finds her still awake, mumbling something about how Gilgamesh is a fucking prick. He’s not quite sure who Gilgamesh is, but MJ’s a pretty good judge of character, so he chooses to crawl into their bed next to her after taking a shower, rest his head on her shoulder, and nod along with her ranting, adding in an occasional “you’re right” or a “yeah, that was fucked up” to be supportive. Somehow, in the time between her starting her outline for the paper, and her opening her first draft, MJ migrated to his lap, her back resting against his chest. 

It’s about five thirty AM, and Peter’s asleep, his arms wrapped around his girlfriend’s waist and his face pressed against her back. He’s snoring, but it doesn’t distract her. She has a paper to write. And Peter needs sleep. When she’s sure that her first draft contains all the necessary elements to at the very least answer the essay prompt, she closes her laptop and moves off of his lap, pulling him down to lay down so she can catch one or two hours of sleep. 

And when MJ does wake up again, she goes and brushes her teeth, opens a peach Red Bull, and starts the editing process on their couch, hunched over her laptop. Peter emerges freshly showered from their room a few hours later, and after he makes his morning smoothie, he sits down next to her to drink it and work on his math study guide. “Straighten your back, Em,” he reminds her, gently poking her side. 

Right. Yeah. Bad posture leads to aches and pains. MJ re-positions herself, leaning back against the back of the couch with her laptop on her knees, her feet on the edge of the coffee table. “Thanks, nerd.”

“Your nerd.”

MJ’s eyes crinkle a little as she smiles over at him. “Yeah, mine,” she agrees, then turns back to her editing process. She has a tendency to write far too many words when she’s on a rant about something, so now she’s whittling down her blocky paper into a fine carving. It’s a process. It’s gonna take a while to get it down to an acceptable page range, a lot of cutting out quotes and adding careful paraphrases and summaries instead. 

***

“Do you want to take a break to get lunch later?” Peter offers, biting the end of his pencil as he works. 

“Can we order in? I have too many deadlines,” MJ offers instead. It’s easier to conceal her disgust for human foods when they’re at home and he’s not focusing on her while they eat. At first, after the transformation, she’d thrown up every time she’d even tried to eat normal food. Now, she can take a few bites, but it’s nowhere near pleasant, nor filling, nor nutritious. Even the good things, like chocolate, are an effort. Man, she misses chocolate. 

“Yeah, sure. Sushi okay?”

“Yeah, sushi is fine,” MJ nods, waving her hand at it. Sushi is tolerable. At least it’s raw and protein-packed. 

***

“Can we put on music?” Ah yes. Peter does study better with music, doesn’t he? MJ opens up Spotify, turns on their shared daily mix, and moves a little closer to him while she works. 

A few hours later, Peter picks up his phone, taking her order for a sashimi sampler and puts in his own order for a few (six) hand rolls, and sets aside his work so he can wrap his arms around her. “Em, you’re really tense. Take a deep breath,” he prompts her, putting his hands on her shoulders and digging his thumbs into her muscles, trying to get her to loosen up. 

MJ forced herself to inhale and exhale slowly, closing her eyes for a moment. “Sorry. It’s this damn story. And all the other shit I’ve had to read for this class. Out of the entire Norton Anthology of World Literature, the only content on the syllabus is written by a male author or probably by a male author. Most of it is misogynistic as fuck, and it’s really fucking tiring. Like, I’m sorry, were women not also writing throughout history? Like, we couldn’t even have had The Tale of Genji or something on the syllabus? No? Everything had to be written by a man? This is such bullshit, Peter,” MJ fumes, waving her hands around as she makes her points. 

Peter keeps his mouth shut for a moment, but when he finally does open it, he says, “you know, you get to leave a course evaluation at the end of the semester. You can cuss out your professor for only choosing male authors then. But you’re probably not going to change the syllabus halfway into the semester, and complaining about it won’t help your grade right now.”

“Yeah,” MJ sighs. “You’re right. Course evaluations,” she agrees, relaxing a little bit and leaning into his hands as they make their way down her back. 

“Besides. All of your papers so far for this class have gotten an A, right? At least not liking the content isn’t affecting your grades.”

“Yeah,” MJ nods, feeling a lot calmer already. It’s probably his hands doing that. “I’ve been doing really well this semester. I’m just hoping the whole having so many papers at once thing doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass after this week.”

“You’ve got this, MJ. You’re going to do well on everything. You’re a fantastic writer with amazing reading comprehension and you’re phenomenal at memorizing things,” Peter encourages her, kissing her cheek. 

“Thanks, Peter,” MJ smiles at him, setting aside her laptop and cupping his cheek. She kisses him as she slides into his lap, her legs coming to wrap around his waist. “I love you. I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve got this. I need to just relax.”

“Do you need help with that?” Peter offers. There’s a little smirk on his face as he wraps his arms around her waist. “I’ve got plenty of experience with getting you to relax,” he reminds her, his mouth just under her ear.

* * *

***

MJ’s breath hitches, and she nods her head yes, indicating he should continue doing whatever he plans on doing. Unfortunately, there’s a knock on the door. Right. Human food. MJ makes a face behind his back when he gently sets her aside to go get the food from the delivery person. After closing the door and tipping on the app on his phone, he opens up the bags, setting everything out on the coffee table. 

MJ suffers through eating her sashimi, managing to not make any faces about it. Look, as far as human food goes, it’s not that bad. It’s raw meat, she can keep it down, so that’s better than, you know, most foods. At the end of their meal, she recycles their containers after washing them, then comes back to the couch to straddle him.

***

They fall together easily, Peter guiding her down to the couch before he sits up to remove his shirt. Her eyes trace the outline of his shoulders, his hands spread her legs. Look, at home, all she really  _ needs _ to wear is a big, oversized t-shirt. It’s just comfortable to go without undies, okay? MJ’s breath hitches again when, as expected, Peter moves her legs over his shoulders and presses his mouth to her inner thigh, whispering to her about how much she loves him as he leaves honest-to-god hickeys on her skin. MJ whimpers softly, shutting her eyes and wrapping her hands around the back of his head. They’re not in any rush right now. He’s right, she needs to relax. What better way than letting her boyfriend pamper her for a while, right?

Right. MJ can feel the heat in her core pooling as Peter’s lips continue to work their way over her skin, as he traces patterns with his tongue that she knows he’ll repeat over her vulva and clit later. She moans quietly, guiding his head closer to her center, and he complies, smiling against her skin for a moment. “I,” one kiss to the top of her pubic bone, “love,” one to the left crease between her hips and her legs, “you,” and one kiss to the right. “I want you to feel good, MJ. Today’s all about you. Just let me know what you need, and I’ll do anything to get it for you,” he tells her. 

MJ opens up her eyes to smile at him, tearing up a little. “I love you too, Peter. Thank you for this.”

“It’s truly my pleasure, Em,” Peter laughs, moving down as he kisses along the crease between her leg and her left outer labia, then on the other side. 

“Tease,” MJ pouts at him, pushing her hips closer to his face.

Peter looks up at her to roll his eyes, before his nose brushes her clit and his tongue is diving inside of her, tasting her. He moans, and the vibration of his voice is so fucking amazing that she tenses up, her legs clamping down around his ears. Peter just grips her by the hips and moves her just a little so he can move his tongue up to her clit, swirling in little circles with the tip of his tongue, concentrated on keeping an even, steady pattern. 

Wordlessly, MJ taps on the back of his head, then moves her finger side to side, back and forth against his scalp for a moment. He gets the message, switching up his pattern to flick from side to side, and Michelle moans, begging “fingers, please,” as she tries not to move her hips. Peter doesn’t need to be told twice, and he presses one finger inside of her, then the next, curling them experimentally only to get exactly the response he’s looking for when MJ gasps, her muscles clenching around them. It takes approximately fifteen seconds from that point to get her to cry “P-e-e-e-eeeterr,” her legs shaking and hips bucking, orgasm causing her skin to feel all tingly. 

He withdraws without having to be told, stripping her out of her T-shirt, then making eye-contact with her, asking silently if she wants to/has time to keep going. When she nods, Peter strips out of his sweatpants and boxers, then starts pressing kisses up from her right hip bone to her left shoulder, then up the side of her neck, then her jaw, until his mouth meets hers while she laughs quietly at how happy she feels having someone love her as much as he does. She presses her tongue past his lips, hooking a leg over him before flipping the two of them over, so she’s sitting over his hips while they kiss. 

Michelle sinks down on his dick without a thought in the world except for how fucking amazing it makes her feel, guiding his fingers to her clit as she fucks herself with his cock. Peter watches her with starstruck eyes, doing exactly what she wants with his fingers and flicking back and forth over her clit, letting her brace her hands on his chest to support her weight. When her hips start moving erratically as she gets closer and closer, he wastes no time in wrapping an arm around her and flipping them back around, pressing his lips to hers.

“F-u-u-uck,” Michelle sighs, a moment later, tapping his arm to tell him to stop rubbing her clit— the overstimulation was getting just a little bit painful. A moment later, he spills inside of her, his lips meeting her neck as he whines “fuck, Em, please,” under her ear. He lays on top of her as his hips come to a halt, holding onto her until she reminds him that he’s heavy and she needs to pee. He follows her to the bathroom, turning on the shower and offering to wash her. He doesn’t have to ask twice. 

After a short shower, Peter offers to cuddle with her while she edits, and she takes him up on that offer, sitting in his lap and resting against his chest with her laptop in her lap, his arms wrapped around her waist. He spends the rest of the day murmuring words of encouragement in her ear, rubbing her shoulders, and making sure she drinks enough water. 

Late in the evening, after she’s submitted her essay for peer review prior to turning it in, he offers to do a face mask with her, which somehow evolves into giving her a full body massage. MJ doesn’t mind that evolution, though. It’s been nice to have a day and night that’s all about her. She knows exactly what she’s asking for on her birthday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as the great cocoamoon commented on another fic, smart+smart = 2 dumbasses. Idk how that math works out, but it does, i can verify it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you know what’s going to happen in this fic/what mj is/what’s going on... not in the comments you don’t <3 comments r a spoiler free zone pls
> 
> Feel free to yell at me on tumblr!!! (Same username)


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